


The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To (Is When I'm Alone With You)

by soclosethatisafruit



Category: High Noon Over Camelot - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Christianity, Kissing, M/M, Mild Gore, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, brian is So Worried about his bf's lack of self preservation instincts, but i made it sound kind of pretty, galahad's death typical gore, sadly not a fix-it, yes this is just religious trauma and talking about how hot brian is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28532046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soclosethatisafruit/pseuds/soclosethatisafruit
Summary: This was his penance, he reminded himself as he walked down the dusty streets of the town, fighting not to crumble under the gaze of the people that burned just like his lover. He had always been taught that in order to receive blessing, you must repent. In order for pleasure, there must first be pain.
Relationships: Drumbot Brian/Galahad (High Noon Over Camelot)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To (Is When I'm Alone With You)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 3 am when i was thinking too much about galahad idk what else to say i apologize

They all Knew.

He could see, walking through the barren streets that Camelot tried to call a town, filled with good honest people, that they all could Tell.

The burn on his mouth, blistering his lips, painting them into his very own scarlet letter. For this could be no secret tryst. No, everyone would find out, and he would have to face head on the consequences of being Seen.

For anyone else this would have been too much, the rewards not worth the risk. But with Merlin, well, anyone who knew anything about Galahad knew worship was his bread and butter.

And worship he did, each touch of his prophet’s fingertips melting away the fear, gentle and forgiving and Good even through the pain. Each kiss pressed to his lips holy, burning away the preacher’s sin even as it laid him bare for all the world to see. 

This was his penance, he reminded himself as he walked down the dusty streets of the town, fighting not to crumble under the gaze of the people that burned just like his lover. He had always been taught that in order to receive blessing, you must repent. In order for pleasure, there must first be pain. The balance of the world, indulgences and godless actions kept in check by the cost the pleasure-taker must bear. Equals and opposites. Galahad thought long and hard about every decision, placing it carefully on his mental scales before acting, but with Merlin, the scales were tossed out, all actions based on pure instinct.

But it was worth it. Anything would be worth it for his prophet, anything to earn his love, no matter how much Merlin insisted he need not do anything. He would take scarlet letters, looks burning with the worst understanding, even the fiery pits of hell for this beautiful, kind, good man, and he would gently brush back Galahad’s hair with that fond and slightly concerned look in his eye and tell him no penance was necessary. His love would never be conditional, he explained, he would never require worship, punitive measures.

Galahad knew this wasn’t true, of course, he was raised to know better.

So when his hanged man sang to him, begging him, telling him the siege seat was the only way, Galahad was ready.

What was one more sacrifice for his prophet?

And when he sat down, and became haunted by visions of burning, of screaming and endless pain and white hot, more than he already was, he understood why.  
He had beheld a false prophet for too long, and the Lord would never let such a violation go unchecked. 

He was beyond saving, he knew.

He had been for decades.

But the rest of Camelot, good and true people, they could be saved.

And so he preached his message, telling of the hellfire that plagued him, and how they may avoid it.

And so a quest was formed, and Galahad beheld his false prophet, his love, for what he knew would be the last time.

And as he stood tall, enduring the final penance of thousands of bullets tearing apart his flesh, he laughed.

Because this was nothing.

He would do it a thousand times for his love, would endure the endless torture he knew he would face in the flames that had haunted him since he was a tiny child, would go against the word of the Lord, breaking one of his key rules, the first of his Ten Commandments: Thou shalt have no other gods before me. 

And so in his last moments, Galahad smiled, scarred lips stretching wide before being torn to shreds, and thought of his love’s gentle caress. 

For how bad can the flames of hell be after the hanged man’s kiss?


End file.
